


my body is a temple and there's another funeral today

by ODed_on_jingle_jangle



Series: let's spit on his grave [2]
Category: Dare Me (TV 2019), Dare Me - Megan Abbott
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood, Canon - Book & Movie Combination, Complicated Relationships, Crime Scenes, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dead People, Disturbing Themes, F/F, Graphic Description of Corpses, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mild Gore, Minor Violence, Psychological Trauma, Rape Aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:47:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24129937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ODed_on_jingle_jangle/pseuds/ODed_on_jingle_jangle
Summary: “How are you doing?” Addy asks when it’s just the two of them.“How am I supposed to answer that?” Beth asks dully.“With the truth,” Addy murmurs, pulling Beth a bit closer to her.“When do you ever want the truth, Addy?” Beth sighs, sounding more weary than angry.“We’re in deep now, Beth,” Addy whispers, heart twisting in her chest. “Real life ride-or-die. There’s a dead guy in the trunk and we’re about to dump his body in a crack house. I’ll handle it even if I don’t want to hear it. We can’t afford to play games anymore.”Edit: Posted wrong draft the first time.
Relationships: Beth Cassidy/Addy Hanlon
Series: let's spit on his grave [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1731322
Comments: 10
Kudos: 72





	my body is a temple and there's another funeral today

**Author's Note:**

> Turned the last one-shot into a collection. What can I say, I like toying with canon divergence and who doesn't want Kurtz dead, lmao. No rape actually happens in this fic, nonetheless, I opted to use the Archive Warnings because it is so heavily referenced and its aftermath is very present. 
> 
> Title from A Softer World: 1064.
> 
> Edit: So as I'm reading through this post upload I'm like, "wait, there's shit missing." And then I'm seeing typos I could've swore I fixed already. I posted the wrong draft, smfh. So I fixed it. If you read the first one posted though, it's still cool cause nothing significant is changed. The gist is the same. Just some sentences are different and some of those ugly typos are gone.

The first thing they do, is wipe. They get the vinyl gloves and the bleach from beneath the sink. They drench washcloths in it, and swipe them all over the kitchen, over the counters, the chairs. Will wipes the part of the bottle that protrudes from Kurtz's throat, stone faced. Then he grips it through the rag and pulls, and the noise the meat makes when the jagged glass jerks free brings up bile. 

It washes hot and sour over Addy’s tongue, chest squeezing with something grim as she watches. She catches Beth watching too. Beth warily turns away and uses her bleach rag to sweep the glass shards on the floor into a dustpan. Addy begins to turn away, but stops, realization jolting her like a lightning bolt. 

“That’s— That’s Beth’s b-blood,” she splutters, syllables quavering as nausea engulfs her insides, eyes sweeping over the gummy red on Kurtz’s penis, on his thighs. “Beth’s DNA, we have to get it off.” 

Beth looks up again. Glances over to the grisliness that is her own blood painting her dead rapist’s skin. Her face is phlegmatic, but Addy sees her knuckles tighten around the dustpan and she swears she can feel a scream swallowed back in the subtle bob of Beth’s throat, silenced and shoved down deep, deep where Beth stores all of her sorrows and then some. Addy knows, of course. Addy can feel them writhing sometimes, and sometimes she pretends she doesn’t, pretends she can’t, because she isn’t a bottom base and things like that are too heavy for her shoulders. 

“I’ve got it,” Will declares, reaching for the bleach. He pours some directly onto Kurtz’s genitals and scours with his rag. 

Addy doesn’t want to watch but she can’t tear her eyes away. 

After, they roll Kurtz onto the rug as a trio, Beth at the end, with his legs, Will in the middle, with the trunk of the body, and Addy at his head and shoulders. His eyes have begun to sink in, like aging grapes on the verge of shriveling. She can feel the lifeless chill of his flesh even through her gloves, its subtle give beneath her touch. Like the apple she’d had for breakfast yesterday, still cool from the fridge but soft with bruising, a tad overripe. 

Addy wonders how normal it is to compare corpses to fruit. 

“Guess it’s true you shit your pants after you die,” Beth grumbles as she hefts his legs up, the foul odor of feces mingling with the burning reek of bleach. 

Addy’s stomach churns at the solid sound the body makes as they dump it facedown onto the rug. When she glances over, she can see it. Ugly, yellowy brown smearing the seam of Kurtz’s hairy ass crack. She wonders if they should’ve pulled up his pants to spare themselves the sight, but then Beth barks a dark laugh and kicks at his combat boot. 

“Who’s the bitch now, huh?” she jeers though gritted teeth. 

Will swallows between them, shooting an unreadable glance to Addy before turning to Beth. 

“If I’m going to help you with this, Beth, I need to know you can keep it together.” 

“I wasn’t the one who wanted your help,” she says sharply. “How do I know you can keep it together, Sarge? That you’re not going to have some shellshocked veteran flashback and flip your shit, or turn on us the second you get a chance, or run your mouth to fucking Colette—“ 

“Stop it!” Addy demands, using the lieutenant voice she always uses when her captain goes too far and it’s time to reel her back in. “He just helped us wipe down the place, didn’t he? He’s in this now, we’re all in this now. Together.” 

Beth peers around Will to meet Addy’s gaze, her uninjured eye a sapphire of cyphers only Addy can decode. Addy communicates what she has to with her own gaze. Things pass between them, a helpless argument, a mutual submission. 

Addy pulls her gaze from Beth and focuses on Will. The shadows that flicker in his eyes, his mouth in a firm line of resignation. She wishes she could’ve called Coach instead, but of course that wasn’t an option. Not after the way things went the last time Beth had a problem Addy went to Coach for…but she can imagine what Coach would do at least. If she were here. If she were the one in Addy’s shoes and had to maintain control over the situation. 

Addy thinks she knows. 

“I’ve kept all your secrets, Sarge,” she reminds him, reaching over and sweeping her index finger over the fallow bruising around his eye. “You can keep one for us.” 

Will’s brows briefly lift, then his face resumes its granite hardness. 

“No one will ever know anything about this. Not even Colette.” Will looks to Beth. “Look…I understand that you’ve been through hell tonight and you’re scared as shit, and I’m the last person you want to trust because it’s sorta my fault, right? What happened to you?” 

He glances between them, shaking his head a bit. “I was in charge of this fuckup. If I did a better job of keeping ‘im in line, maybe we wouldn’t be here. But we are, all of us are, and if I was gonna bail, it would’ve been before we broke out the bleach.” 

Beth stares at Will for a long moment. 

“Fine,” she decides, reluctantly pacified. 

“We better get a move on, use the dark for cover while we’ve still got it,” Will says next. “Let’s roll him together now.” 

Addy takes her section of rug and pulls it over Kurtz’s shoulder, holding it fast as they begin to roll him up. It conjures a memory of rolling her sleeping bag up at cheer camp, some part of her sad to go, another part sick of the stuffy cabin. Listening to the rustle of fabric as Beth rolled up her own on the bunk above. 

By the end, the body is completely burrito’ed in beige and it’s a relief, really. Addy doesn’t want to see any of Kurtz anymore. Not his creepy sunken eyes, or the gummy gouges in his throat, or his shitty, pasty ass cheeks. Beth also seems more at ease when he’s all covered, despite the rotten work that comes next; moving him to the vehicle. 

It’s another task accomplished as a trio, awkwardly maneuvering their macabre carpeted corpse burrito through the door. Getting him into Will’s trunk, shifting and shoving to make him fit. With that, they slip back into the house to finish cleaning up. 

“We should take that broken bottle too,” says Will. “And the shards. We’ll dump them, but not wherever we end up dumping him. What’d you do with the clothes you had on before?” 

Beth blinks and glances questioningly to Addy. 

“R-Right.” The bloody ones. “I, um. Put them in a plastic bag.” 

“Go get it. We’ve got to burn them. Grab yourselves a change too. We’ll wear what we’ve got on until we’re done with him, and then we’ve got to burn it too. Just in case. Forensics these days, a single hair, a single carpet fiber can mean prison.” 

“Dramatic much,” Beth huffs. She whips around and jogs upstairs. “The bag’s still in the bathroom, right, Addy?” 

“Yeah,” Addy calls up to her. “G-Grab me your gray hoodie!” 

It sounds like she’s asking for something to wear to the movies in case the theater is cold. 

“Is she gonna be okay?” Will asks, lowering his voice an octave. 

“Oh, don’t mind the sarcasm. It’s just how Beth deals sometimes.” 

“That’s not what I mean.” 

Before Addy can reply, she’s hit in the face with a ball of gray fleece. She yips, scrambling to catch the hoodie as it opens up. There’s Beth at the top of the stairs, corner of her lips quirked in a weak smile beneath the puffy plum of her black eye. Something about the sight makes Addy knees wobble, makes her want to cry. But there is no time for that now. 

“I don’t have anything that’ll fit you, Sarge. Just gonna wear your birthday suit?” Beth raises a brow. 

“Think my undershirt and boxers will be okay,” he mutters, looking down at himself. “I’ll just burn the jacket and the jeans…” 

Addy wonders if she would’ve known to do these things had she not called him. Burn Beth’s clothes, probably, since they had blood on them. But would she have thought to burn her own? 

Beth disappears for a moment, then returns with one of those eco-friendly, reusable grocery bags on her arm. Soft blue with a pretty pink flamingo on the side. The plastic bag in her opposite hand contains the bloody clothes and Addy can see the red through its flimsy thinness. Beth trots down the steps and the thoughts swirling in her head must be like the thoughts swirling in Addy’s as she peers at Will, head tilting just a notch. 

Addy thinks she can feel a question behind Beth’s lips, but it’s one neither of them ask. There is no time for that. It’s time to go. 

* * *

Addy has never been to Detroit before. She admires it from the backseat, Beth’s head on her shoulder, arm looped securely around Beth’s waist. Beth is almost in her lap, but not quite, clutching Addy’s hand furiously tight. It hurts, almost, but Addy thinks she needs this too. It could’ve been Beth on the floor. It could’ve been Beth in Kurtz’s trunk. 

Some of Detroit is awesome. The tallest buildings she’s ever witnessed in person. A Gothically ornate Cathedral like a polished relic from the past. The most intricate, artistic graffiti she has ever seen, marvelous urban tapestries claiming walls and walls of brick. 

Some of it is like the bad parts of Sutton Grove made worse and cluttered together. Boarded up, abandoned places. Rotten wooden fences falling apart against the backdrop of overgrown, littered lots. Scruffy, scrappy stray dogs roaming the streets.

Before it gets too light out, they stop at some obviously abandoned, derelict house. All the windows have been broken into, the remaining shards of glass like sharp teeth in the battered frames. Part of the front porch looks like it was burned down. Most of the roof is gone, but what remains is a shabby swayback of crumbling shingles. Will parks, gets out of the car to scope it out and make sure there aren’t any squatters hanging around. 

“How are you doing?” Addy asks when it’s just the two of them.

“How am I supposed to answer that?” Beth asks dully. 

“With the truth,” Addy murmurs, pulling Beth a bit closer to her. 

“That’a a first,” Beth sighs, sounding more weary than angry. “When do you ever want the truth, Addy?”

“We’re in deep now, Beth,” Addy whispers, heart twisting in her chest. “Real life ride-or-die shit. There’s a fucking dead guy in the trunk and we’re about to dump his body in a crack house. I’ll handle it even if I don’t want to hear it. We can’t afford to play games anymore.” 

Beth swallows and Addy feels her jaw clenching against her collarbone. 

“You told me nothing happened at the Playland,” Addy says quietly, confused and perhaps a bit hurt. 

“We’re not going to talk about it now,” Beth says, voice like ashes falling from incense sticks. “We’ll talk about it later, when we’re really alone.” 

Eerily enough, Addy realizes she isn’t sure if Beth is referring to Will’s presence or Kurtz’s. She rests her cheek against the top of Beth’s head, begins to rub Beth’s back in gentle circles between her shoulder blades. She isn’t even sure whose comfort it’s for, Beth’s or her own. Maybe both. Sometimes the lines between them blur or disintegrate entirely and this is one of those times. 

Eventually Will comes back, rapping bruised knuckles against the window to get their attention. Addy lifts her head. 

“Coast is clear,” he says. “We can dump it here.” 

Beth’s hand squeezes Addy’s so hard it’s like a pit bull bite, crushing, unbreakable. Then she lets go and they both climb out of the backseat. The three of them wrestle the bundled body out of the trunk, a cumbersome, graceless affair. 

They hurry to the overgrown backyard of this dilapidated deathtrap of a house, shuffle up weathered, molding wooden steps that sag under their shoes. Split between the three of them, Kurtz’s weight isn’t an issue, but the way it feels in Addy’s hands is perturbing. As if there’s a curse pulsing through the carpet. 

They stuff him inside a closet, kick the door closed, and call it a day, hurrying back to the vehicle. It’s a surreal ride, where they don’t talk at all unless it’s about what they are to do next, which is disposing of the glass. 

They get rid of that in Detroit too, in a dumpster behind a Dunkin’ Donuts that isn’t open yet. Burning their clothes isn’t something they do until they’re back to home base in Sutton Grove. The sun has risen at this point, but it’s still early and most of the town is asleep. 

No one is at Lanvers, and that’s where they go, burning their clothes in the rusty barrel that’s been used for countless bonfires and leaf burning on chilly autumn days. Will turns around, back to Addy and Beth as they change into the clothes Beth brought in the flamingo bag. The fire crackles hungrily, sunset orange flames rising high. 

Fully dressed, Addy turns to the barrel. She watches the flames devour Beth’s bloodied skirt, smoke rising in thin tendrils. Looks through it, at Beth. Meets Beth’s gaze beyond the gauzy gray plumes. 

People are going to notice Beth’s black eye, it’s unmissable of course, swollen shut and dark purple. People are going to ask about it. Everyone is going to ask about it, probably. Maybe even the staff at school, the counselor suspecting child abuse. 

Addy wonders what Coach would do about that. What Coach would tell them to do, if she’d been able to call her instead. 

“We should fight,” Addy decides. 

“What?” Beth’s good eye narrows. 

“Yeah,” Addy says, bobbing her head. “You and me, we need to fight. You need to put some bruises on me, Beth, so yours aren’t the only one people notice. We’ll say we had a fight and everyone will have to believe it if we’re both all scuffed up.” 

“Smart thinking,” Will mumbles. 

Beth’s lips part. She flicks her tongue over them and squares her shoulders, moving around the burn barrel with purpose. Addy braces herself as she lunges. 

She’s tackled to the ground, breath ripped from her lungs as her back strikes the hard earth. Pain rockets through her face as Beth pounds her fists into it. Her lip sears as it splits under Beth’s knuckle. Stars dazzle her vision as her nose squishes under Beth’s punch, blood spurting from the nostrils. 

Then the punching stops and the throttling begins. Beth’s hands seize her throat and squeeze, Addy blinking up at her as the stars clear from her vision. She stares back down at her, good eye blazing. 

Addy wonders if on some level, Beth is enjoying this. Being given a license to hurt her. It feels like she’s going all out, this crushing pressure against her windpipe. 

Oh, yes. Beth is enjoying this. They haven’t been on the best terms for awhile now, but Coach blew everything up when she stripped Beth of her captain status and Addy let it happen without so much as a single vouch for her. They’ve been silently raging at each other since Addy befriended Coach and began spending the night at her place instead. Since Addy began to follow Coach's advice over Beth’s, model herself after Coach’s mantras in favor of hers. 

Beth throttles Addy until she grows lightheaded. Her eyes begin to water, face burning hot and about to pop. Like a tomato in the microwave. Then Addy curls her hands around Beth’s wrists and digs her nails in, indicating its time to stop. Back on lieutenant duty, keeping Beth in check. 

Beth’s grip loosens. 

And then Addy— 

Well, Addy has her frustrations to get out too. Beth isn’t the only one pissed off. Addy is over being dragged for befriending Coach, like it’s some kind of betrayal just because she’s hanging out with someone who’s actually helping her become better at cheer. She’s furious for feeling like she has to pick between them, for Beth making her feel that way because she shouldn’t actually have to. She should get to have them both, her coach and her friend. 'Friend' is probably not the best word to describe what Beth is to her, but it is the simplest.

And maybe— 

Maybe if Beth had told her about the Playland to begin with, things with Kurtz wouldn’t have turned into this. Wouldn’t have turned Addy into a person who knows what literal deadweight feels like when it’s wrapped in a rug, a person who wonders how normal it is to compare corpses to fruit. She will never blame Beth for what happened, for what he did, but she should’ve told Addy about it, for fuck’s sake. Should have been honest for once, instead of burying it under her masks and riddles, always masks and riddles that Addy’s beyond fed up of by now. 

So Addy surges up and knocks Beth onto her back. Addy straddles her waist and slaps Beth so hard her own hand stings like crackling sparklers on The Fourth of July. Slaps her again with the same force as she turns back up to gape at Addy in surprise. Tangles her fingers in a fistful of Beth’s chestnut mane and yanks up until Beth gives an unintended yelp. Beth reaches back and claws viciously at her hands. 

Addy’s grip loosens and Beth lashes out, heel of her palm striking Addy’s jaw. Tries to overpower Addy while she’s dazed, fails when Addy jams her knee into her gut. Body buzzing with everything she holds back, everything she’s seen tonight, Addy snaps forward and sinks her teeth into Beth’s shoulder. 

“Simmer down now,” Will calls out. 

They both ignore him. They go rolling across the ground, leaves crunching under their weight, twigs jabbing through their clothes. They claw, hit, smack, and slap and shove. After awhile Addy doesn’t know where her hits end and Beth’s begin. Whose pain belongs to who. 

“Enough!” 

Will is here but he isn’t. He’s nothing, no more important than the dented, discarded beer can they roll past, Beth’s hands around her throat again. He’s nothing. It’s just Addy and Beth. It always is. It’s always them. 

They’re biting. Then they’re kissing. Cursing furiously and laughing breathlessly against each other’s skin. Brushing the injuries they give each other with cool lips. Mouths leaving blood smears instead of lipstick prints. Too exhausted to keep going, Addy just flops down beside Beth on the forest floor. 

She watches Beth breathe as their fingers twitch against each other, tiny tingles of warmth thrumming through the throbbing and stinging of fresh hurt. 

“Well, shit,” Will gasps, sauntering over. The neckline of his undershirt is soaked with sweat despite the chilly nip of autumn air. “I thought you girls were gonna kill each other.” 

“No,” Addy hums, still watching Beth breathe, keeping pace of the rise and fall of her chest. He doesn't understand how they work. No one does. No one could.

“Fear not, Wounded Warrior Project,” Beth deadpans, looking at Addy. “We won’t put another body disposal on your schedule.” 

“Jesus Christ.” Will groans and rakes his hand through his hair. “Get up. I’m dropping you two off and then we’re never, ever talking about this again.” 

Addy hefts herself to her feet and then extends her hand to Beth. For a moment, Beth hesitates. She blinks slowly and then takes Addy’s hand, accepting the help. 

“Once you two get out of the car, it’s over,” Will continues sternly, in the same drill sergeant mode he was the last time they were here, barking at her and Coach from the picnic blanket as they did stunts and tumbles together. That time feels rather like a dream now, shiny and out of reach.

“We pretend it never happened. We don’t know anything, we never saw anything, never even left. Are we all on the same page, ladies?”

Beth doesn’t like being told what to do, so Addy gives her a sharp look as she nods along, urging her to do the same. She doesn’t have to like Will. She can be mad at Addy for calling him if she wants. But they have to cooperate with each other, because if they don’t, they could all go to prison. 

“Yeah,” Beth agrees, looking down at her feet, as statue still as she’d been in the shower. “It’ll be like nothing ever happened.” 

* * *

Lana is home when Beth and Addy walk through the door, leaned up against the window with folded arms. Addy’s stomach forms a cold, hard ball as she turns to them. 

“Well, well, well. You little vixens have yourselves a ménage à trois with Sarge Studmuffin?” her glassy gaze dances over them. “From the looks of it, he plays rough.” 

Despite everything, Beth flinches, a chink in her armor of stoicism. Addy swallows and steps forward. 

“It wasn’t like that. We were at a party, and Beth and I had a fight.” 

“Sure did a number on each other,” Lana hums, leaning over the back of the couch. Hickeys splatter the creamy column of her neck, suggesting her internet date was a success. “What were you fighting about? Boys?” 

A pause. Lana’s gaze lingers on Addy. 

“Girls?” 

Something squiggles in Addy's chest.

“Cheer,” Beth answers tartly. “Addy bows down to the new coach like she’s the goddess of the fucking underworld, or something. Kisses the fucking ground she walks on. But I think she’s full of shit. How stupid can you be to make Tacy a flyer?” 

Addy's first instinct is to defend Coach but she squashes it down, because they both need some kind of cover story to latch onto. And the best lies are the ones that are closest to the truth.

“Figures,” Lana huffs out, plopping her chin in her hand. “Bert probably hired the bitch just to show off that Chernobyl child of his.” 

“Probably,” Beth agrees. “I mean, he said he did it for me, but everyone knows Tacy is daddy’s little princess…” 

“Aww, Bethy.” Lana gets up and comes over, planting a sloppy kiss on Beth’s forehead. “It’ll bite him in the ass one day. That little airhead can’t hold a candle to you.” 

“Thanks, Mom.” Beth’s lips twitch. “You should go to bed, you had a late night out with Mr. Tinder.” 

“Oh, I know it.” Lana stretches like a cat, gaze flashing mischievously. “I’ll tell you girls all about it it in the morning.” 

Addy doesn’t point out that it is morning, technically. 

“Sure, Mom.” 

“Night, Miss Cassidy.” 

Lana makes her way upstairs, stumbling a bit. Addy only realizes in retrospect that her voice had sounded slurred. It’s just something she doesn’t notice much anymore, since Lana’s drunk more often than she’s not. A detail her brain skips over because it’s become too normal to bother with. 

“Do you want to go to bed too?” Addy asks, turning to Beth. 

“Like I could sleep,” Beth scoffs. 

She goes over to the couch and plops heavily. Addy slinks to the kitchen instead of joining her. The acerbic scent of bleach burns her eyes and she wonders if Lana noticed at all. Doesn’t seem like it. Addy thinks there must be a lot of things Lana doesn’t notice. 

She opens the freezer and takes out the penguin-shaped gel ice pack. She wraps it in a clean towel and pads back into the living room. Wordlessly, she plops onto the cushions next to Beth and holds the ice pack to Beth’s puffy plum eye. Beth exhales a shaky breath and her hand finds Addy’s knee, squeezing gently. 

They are exhausted. The talking will come later.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really under the impression Dare Me takes place in MI tbh, for the reasons mentioned in my notes in the first part of this series. I think Bert was just talking about building an "Ohio stadium" because it's the Ohio Stadium is a well-known, famous stadium and he wants to replicate his own after it. 
> 
> But hey, if I'm wrong and it really does take place in Ohio, whoops, too bad, guess it's a Michigan AU now.
> 
> Ngl, the Baddy fight is inspired by Lee and Kara's boxing match in Battlestar Galactica. I didn't really ship Lee/Kara until that scene, only tolerated it, but then after, I was like, _"oh."_ But tbh het ships have to go the extra mile to even be interesting to me anyway, so it's whatev. 
> 
> This isn't going to be as long as my other series, I don't think. Probably just one or two more parts.


End file.
